It's A Wonderful Life
by ccac2003
Summary: Re-posted. A Gone With the Wind Christmas story.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: One of the stories that did not survive the "great purge" of my posted stories, a result of a bad case of writer's block. Having re-read and edited - this story still made me happy, so I hope it will do the same to some of you all! Merry Christmas! ~CC_

**Chapter 1: Of Prayers and Angel's Wings**

"_Dear God, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," the little girl sobbed. "Please help my Mama."_

"_Dear God, Aunt Scarlett's awful sad tonight. And it's Christmas. Please don't let anything happen to her."_

"_Dear God," the boy folded his hands reverently. "Mother needs help. Please, please, please let her make it home tonight. I love her, Lord. Please keep her safe."_

"_Lord in Heaven, I owe Scarlett everything. I beg you to help her. Melanie would have been able to help her, if she had lived, but I can do no more than intercede to You, my God."_

Far above the church steeple and the rest of the Atlanta skyline, high, high up through the night sky, there exists a certain firmament full of stars. At this interval in the cosmos, Heavenly Voices are talking, and as each voice is heard, one of the stars twinkles brightly:

"A lot of petitions asking for help on behalf of Scarlett O'Hara."

"Scarlett O'Hara? Oh yes, that woman has had quite a few requests over the years."

"The twins are up tonight."

"Please, anyone but them."

"I'm sorry, but there really is no one else…and if we ever want to be rid of them, we need to give them an opportunity to earn their wings and move on up."

"Hmmph. Very well. Send for them."

Moments later, two identical smaller stars appear, each twinkling as their respective voice speaks:

"Evening. You sent for us?"

"Yes, someone down there needs your help."

"Down there? You mean we get to go home?! Boy oh boy! Anybody we know?"

"One Scarlett O'Hara."

"Scarlett O'Hara? Hell yeah! I mean…Sorry, boss."

"You twins haven't learned a thing, have you?"

"Sorry," they chorused together.

"What are you holding, young man?"

"_A Christmas Carol_!" Brent grinned. "My favorite book."

"Appropriate, ain't it?" Stuart chimed in.

"How many years have you been with us, Mr. Tarleton? Either of you may answer."

The twins exchanged mischievous grins. "Shot down at Gettysburg!" Brent and Stuart said simultaneously.

"In the prime of life, we was!"

The Heavenly Hosts sighed. "Right. Almost twenty years ago."

"So, if we was to help Scarlett out, we might get our wings, then?"

"Yeah, I was hopin' to get 'em before Ma kicks the bucket. She'd never lay off, else!"

"Yes." The Heavenly Hosts said together in exasperated voices.

"YEEEII!" The twins let out their renditions of the Rebel Yell.

"Before you begin to celebrate, you should familiarize yourself with Scarlett O'Hara's situation."

"Situation?" Brent laughed. "Never fear, boss. We've known Scarlett all our lives."

"That's right," said Stuart. "We was both her beaux at one point."

The senior Host glared at them. "Perhaps there are points in her past which you do not recall. Before she became a belle and you her very enthusiastic beaux."

"That ain't no fun," Brent groaned.

"And you wonder why you haven't yet received your wings? Watch!" the Host commanded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Of Close Calls and Habits Started**

"**Who's that?" Brent asked. **

"**Scarlett."**

"**That don't look like Scarlett," Stuart observed.**

"**She's only twelve here, I assume that you hadn't noticed her yet."**

"**Well, something happens here that you'll have to remember for later on."**

**The twins were both puzzled, but they stopped talking, allowing themselves to become lost in the past…**

"Ashley! Where are you going?" the little girl called. "Wait for me!"

A long-legged youth of around seventeen was grinning at her from behind the snow-covered pine trees.

"India and Honey are up at the house, Scarlett. Go on and play with them."

"No!" she protested. "I want to play with you, Ashley!"

He smirked.

"I'll race you to that pond. But then, you go in like a good girl."

Happily, Scarlett readied herself.

He did not wait for her and took off in a flash, his eyes laughing as he observed the child struggling. Like a gentleman, he waited at the pond's edge.

"The other boys are waiting, Scarlett. You can't play with us."

"I can skate just as good as you, Ashley! I've been practicing and Pa bought me these new skates." She lifted up her skirts to prove her point.

"Well, I suppose you can come. After all, its not every day we see this much snow. I've never seen so much, come to thing of it."

"Pa says it'll be gone by tomorrow." Scarlett giggled.

"I hope not," Ashley smiled down at her from his superior vantage point.

"Ashley!" Raif and Cade Calvert groaned simultaneously. "Why did you bring the little troll with you?"

"I'm not a troll, Cade Calvert!" Scarlett put her hands on her hips.

"You can't skate with us," Boyd Tarleton said. "No girls allowed."

"Fine. I'll skate by myself." Little Scarlett walked onto the ice gracefully and began to tease the boys as they slipped and fell and made fools out of themselves.

Ashley looked a little frightened. He was the tallest there, and he was bright enough to know that the ice hadn't been frozen all that long.

"I'll sit this one out," he called out.

"C'mon Ash!" Boyd yelled.

"Attaboy Ashley!" Cade clapped Ashley on the back.

Ashley attempted gracefulness as he slid onto the ice, managing to go the furthest without falling. In an instant, he felt the blade of his skate catch a weak point in the ice, and before he could cry out, he heard a crack.

"Help!" Ashley screamed, his cry fading as he disappeared into the freezing water.

"Ashley!" Scarlett screamed, skating easily past the boys. Instinctively, she slid onto her stomach and put her arms out into the hole where Ashley had been flailing only seconds before.

"ASHLEY!" Scarlett screamed again, not seeing his arms move. The other boys stood there in stunned silence as Scarlett jumped in.

A few seconds passed which felt to the boys like an eternity, but then, Scarlett's head emerged.

"HELP!" Scarlett screamed.

Their chivalrous instincts alighted, the boys took off toward the hole, dropping to their stomachs and reaching with their hands.

Scarlett's head came up again.

"CHAIN!"

She disappeared for another second, then appeared again. This time, Boyd Tarleton was able to reach her small arm, which he tugged.

"Let go, Scarlett, drop his hand! Drop him, we've got to get you out!"

"NO! Pull harder!"

They obeyed, Cade reached down and yanked Ashley's collar. "Pull her out, Boyd! I've got hold of him! Let go, Scarlett!"

Boyd easily scooped up the dripping little girl and wrapped her in his own jacket. Raif and Cade had Ashley's arms and were hauling him out. His face and lips were blue, but he was alive.

"S-S-Scarlett," Ashley said, his teeth chattering, "y-y-you s-s-saved me…"

"**I don't remember that happening!" Stuart said.**

"**Of course not, you idiot. Boyd never used to let us play with him and Ashley and the Calvert's. That was when **_**he **_**was the biggest."**

"**How 'bout our Scarlett, boss? That was something, wasn't it?"**

"**Indeed," said the senior Heavenly Host. "That was the first of many times Scarlett was to save Ashley Wilkes, a debt which, I believe he still has yet to repay."**

"**Ashley always was a little off." Brent said knowledgably. **

"**Now what?" asked Stuart. "Do we get to see Scarlett now?"**

"**Not yet," said the Host. "There's more to see.**

Lighted tapers set a warm glow around the family and their household servants. Prayers had already been said for the evening, and it was obviously the point in which the father would entertian his family, the mother and three girl children, of his tales of daring do, only half of which were likely true. The biggest one was sitting Indian-style next to the hearth at her father's feet, taking every word he said to be as true as the Gospel.

"That was 1798, my girl. The Battle of Vinegar Hill." The little florid-faced Irishman rolled up his sleeves and addressed his rapt audience. To be fair, the younger two daughters were curled up next to their mother in domestic contentment, listening only out of politeness and eager to go to bed and speed on the upcoming morning. The next day was Christmas, by look of the well decorated parlor.

"This was another one of those times where we had a slim chance. We were armed with only pikes…those are like spears, with little hooks on them. And you'd just hit the man you were fightin' with, that, or hope to knock him off his horse. All this was happenin' down in Southeast Ireland, down in Wexford. And remember now, these were Irish men and boys, fresh out of the fields, goin' up against trained redcoats. All our boys had was barley to eat, which they carried in their pockets. Of course, they were starving, and they were annihilated by English cannon. But years later, barley grew on the hill…the barley from their pockets!"

"How Pa, how?" Scarlett clamored.

"Well they say it was all the Irish blood spilled-"

"Mr. O'Hara, the children!"

"Sorry, Mother. Now, Scarlett, you were named for me mother Katie Scarlett O'Hara. Finest lady in Ireland, hailing from the first Tara."

"Was Tara near the battle, Pa?"

"So it was."

"What was Grandma O'Hara doing?"

"Passin' out what little guns she had to our boys."

"What a feisty thing she must have been!" Scarlett squealed.

"Oh aye, she was like a cat with cream. The battle lust ran deep in her veins, hot as lust of another sort-"

"Mr. O'Hara," his wife interjected gently. "Let us not forget the blessed day of Christmas. We should not sully it with talk of war and other…unsuitable topics."

"Yes, Mrs. O'Hara. Off to bed, girls. Father Christmas will be by to settle up with you in the morning. Presents then."

"I'll wait up for him, Pa!" Scarlett volunteered.

"Saint Nicholas," Ellen gently corrected. "Now then, upstairs please, girls. Goodnight." She kissed their cheeks gently and walked gracefully toward her spinet. She placed her white hands upon the ivory keys and began to play and sing in her sotto voice.

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne! _

_For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne. We'll take a cup of kindness yet, For auld lang syne._

"Merry Christmas, Pa," said Careen, the littlest sister, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Merry Christmas, me baby."

"Goodnight, Pa. Merry Christmas!" Suellen giggled. "I hope that St. Nicholas leaves me a new dress!"

"I'm sure that you shall have it, Sue. Merry Christmas."

The two children disappeared upstairs with whispered giggles, their arms linked.

"Well, Katie Scarlett, what's your Christmas wish?"

"I want to go to the first Tara, Pa. Will you take me there?"

Gerald shook his head. "Ireland's not safe, Puss. It hasn't been for quite some time."

"Please, Pa?"

"Ah Puss, it's a poor excuse for a lady you are. But I do love it about you. Very well, you grow up and marry a fine beau and I'll pay for your trip to the fair Isle."

"Why do I have to get married first, Pa? Ashley gets to go on a Tour and _he's _not married."

Gerald laughed heartily. "I highly doubt that Mr. Ashley Wilkes of Twelve Oaks will have any interest in Ireland, Miss. The oil paintings and the theatre of London and Paris will be far more appealing to his disposition…oh don't look so sad, Puss. Your friend Ashley will be home in two years or so. Perhaps he'll have outgrown his books by then and made himself worthy of me girl. Then and only then will you be goin' to Ireland with _him_."

"Really, Pa?" Scarlett's green eyes shone with happiness.

"Aye. Well, so its Ireland you're wishin' for. Go to bed now, and ask Father Christmas to bring the Isle to you, then. Goodnight Puss."

Ireland and Ashley, Scarlett thought with mirth, Ireland and Ashley_. _Scarlett kissed her father on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Pa!"

"Mr. O'Hara?" Ellen said softly as Scarlett shut the door behind her. "I worry that we are not managing Scarlett well. I fear we've been far too indulgent with her."

"Indulgent, Mrs. O'Hara? Why she can throw stones and climb trees as well as any of the boys and its proud I am of her for it."

"I too admire her spirit; but my dear, she will be thirteen this summer. She's almost a young lady, Mr. O'Hara. I think the time is right for her to be enrolled at Fayetteville Female Academy."

"And turn me fine girl into a spiteful cat with not a brain in her head?"

"She must grow up, dear," Ellen kissed Gerald on the cheek in the first moment of real tenderness toward him all evening.

Gerald melted like butter. "Very well, Mother, But its not me who'll be ruining her fine little dreams on the morrow."

Ellen smiled. "I'll speak to her. The green muslin we bought her is so lovely, I do believe she'll be agreeable to anything."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Of Secrets and Stolen Beaus**

"**Well, Scarlett waits for two years for Ashley to return from his Tour. Of course he does return, and is quite changed in his affections towards her. She's a child no longer, but a young belle, fresh from the Fayetteville Female Academy."**

"**You don't need to remind us, sir," Brent smirked. "We remember just fine!"**

"**Just the same, that's her over there, in the white gown. The year is 1860, and it's Christmas Eve Night. And that of course is young Ashley Wilkes, with whom she assumes herself to be in love."**

"**Never liked that Ashley," Stuart glowered as he observed…**

No trace of the skinny, awkward child dubbed a troll by Cade Calvert remained, and it was safe to say that over half the men in the room were besotted within moments of her arrival in the grand ballroom of Twelve Oaks. Scarlett was clearly aware of her popularity, and she fully expected any of the men to drop whatever they were doing to greet, converse, dance, or otherwise oblige her every fancy. At the moment, however, she had eyes only for the tall, elegant Ashley, newly arrived from Europe.

She prettily stamped her foot to get his attention away from the young lady he was addressing.

Promptly, he excused himself and led the glowing Scarlett toward the dance floor like the handsome young gallant he had been bred to be.

"You look lovely, my dear, a real belle." Ashley smiled, kissing her petal-soft white hand.

"Oh Ashley, you do run on so," Scarlett smirked like a cat but flushed with pleasure. Her sultry eyes delved into his grey ones, sparking a light within them that was uncustomary to behold.

"Ashley, do tell me about your Tour."

With pleasure, he began to speak about the great cathedrals and the glorious rivers and the fine music.

"I loved the opera, my dear. I must take you and your mother and sisters. You would find the fashion immensely pleasing."

Scarlett gave him a casual shrug. "If you say so. Oh Ashley, you must promise me at least three dances tonight. All the waltzes."

He smiled at her. "As if I could favor any of the other young ladies with you in the room my dear, my beautiful little Scarlett."

"Ashley!" a small voiced girl appeared behind him, holding out her hand with a look of adoration upon her face.

Scarlett glared at her for daring to impose upon her wooing.

"Melanie!" Ashley dutifully kissed her on the cheek. "Scarlett O'Hara, this is my cousin, Melanie Hamilton."

Scarlett appraised the girl, small and spindly, she was a slip of a thing, with eyes like a startled doe. The two were of the same height and age; however, Scarlett carried herself with an infinite sense of maturity and self importance. Melanie was wearing a beige confection of a dress which had been engineered to render her more shapely than she actually was; the design failed dismally, for it only served to swallow her tiny figure, so much so that her head seemed quite small atop the hideous thing. And the color! So plain, with so little adornments; she looked miserably trapped within the yards of fabric.

"I remember you," Scarlett said loudly, her posture momentarily forgotten.

"You used to come to Atlanta with your father, but my goodness, you've changed so much!" Melanie cooed in her sweet voice, "I'm so very happy to see you. And what a lovely dress you're wearing, Scarlett!"

"Oh this old thing? I only wear it when I don't care how I look." Scarlett wore a self-satisfied smirk, confident that she need not fear losing Ashley's affections to _this_ mealy-mouthed ninny.

"Did you bring your brother Charles with you?" she addressed Melanie.

"Sadly no," Melanie sighed, "I came with my Aunt Pittypat. Charlie will be so very sad to have missed you, he does so enjoy your company."

"Ashley!" an elegant female voice carried over the crowded room, and Scarlett turned her black-lashed green eyes to scan the ballroom for Ashley's mother, who had called for him. Ashley's mother was small and petite, with not even a hint of grey in her golden locks, her point of glory crowning her otherwise plain features. Though she was small in stature, Mrs. Wilkes was a very dignified lady who Scarlett admired very deeply. Hers was a figure of steady grace and elegance, yet her reputation preceded her as the sweetest, gentlest woman in the entire County.

"Ashley, your father would like you close at hand for the toast. Find him, won't you, dear? Scarlett and Melly, I'm glad you found one another."

Melanie chattered on with Mrs. Wilkes for a few moments, clearly flabbergasted by the flurry of chattering woman and the sharp, witty humor of the County men. She finally excused herself, and went off with India Wilkes in order to be better shown off. Scarlett had attempted to listen politely to the conversation, but she stayed put after the other girls had left, keeping her eyes fixed upon Ashley, his lean figure towering over most of the men in the room.

"Dearest Scarlett," Mrs. Wilkes had caught the target of her affection, and her grey eyes were alit with intrigue.

"Yes?" Scarlett said, taken aback.

"There is little sense in hiding it, my dear. You are quite smitten with my son."

Scarlett's cheeks flushed with arch embarrassment.

"I do believe that he admires you as well. But what man in the room would not, dear Scarlett? You are the most beautiful girl in the County by far, but sweet girl, beauty only counts for so much. Inner beauty, such as your mother possesses, is a far more desirable quality in a wife, especially for the girl who would have my Ashley."

"I try to be like Mother," Scarlett looked downcast.

Mrs. Wilkes took her hand.

"Look at Melanie over there, see how she inquires to his needs. She is well meaning, is Melly, her kindness overwhelming."

"But surely he wouldn't marry her for her kindness?" Scarlett burst out, then looked slightly ashamed.

Mrs. Wilkes laughed. "Dear Scarlett, your honesty is a becoming quality. It makes you unique. Indeed, I would enjoy you as a daughter-in-law. You would bring fresh life to this house."

"Should I tell Ashley that I love him?"

"You are far too young to fancy yourself in love with anyone, sweet girl. And you're far too pretty to marry soon. Enjoy yourself. Flirt with as many young men as you can; and when you decide that it would please you to marry, if your heart tells you to pursue Ashley, then you will have my blessing."

"You're so good to me, Mrs. Wilkes."

"Sweet girl, dance! Hurry, I believe that young Tony Fontaine is without a partner."

Scarlett made no further attempt to subdue her wide grin.

Suddenly she stopped, the smile frozen upon her face.

"**What'd you stop it for?" Brent inquired.**

"**This is the point where her life changes drastically," said the senior Host.**

"**What do you mean?" asked Stuart.**

"**Scarlett could have had Ashley Wilkes if his mother had lived. He would have married her because Mrs. Wilkes so clearly favored her, even over her niece. As it happens-"**

"**She died!" Brent interjected. "Well I'll be a monkey's uncle. We was there that night! She just collapsed, right there in the ballroom."**

"**That's right," Stuart chimed in. "We all thought she'd just fainted and they brought out the vapors and just like that, Ole Doc Fontaine said that her heart done gave out."**

"**She was a great lady," Brent said solemnly. "Bet she's got her wings."**

"**Indeed she has," the voice of the Host chided the boys. "Now, as to the matter at hand…"**

"**Yeah, what does Ashley have to do with Scarlett being in trouble?"**

"**I'm afraid that they have been one another's stumbling block over the past decade or so. He owes his life to her many times over, but she has fiercely clung to him, even at the cost of her own marriage."**

"**Who'd she marry after poor old Charlie died?" Brent wondered aloud.**

"**She has had two husbands since, one Frank Kennedy and one Rhett Butler."**

"**Old man Kennedy? What a comedown for her. Damn it! Why did I have to die? She would have definitely picked me over him." moaned Stuart.**

"**Please, don't tell me she married Rhett Butler! He insulted the Cause plain as day in front of all of us!"**

"**Its not your place to judge the suitability of her decisions, young Brent and Stuart. Your place is to help her before its too late for us to intervene."**

"**What does she need? Ain't that Butler fellow made of money?"**

"**He's cutting her off after Christmas. They are in the midst of a very bitter divorce."**

"**Can't we just shoot him?" Brent wondered aloud.**

"**No," said the Host wearily. "Shooting him will not help her…not at this point."**

"**Why?" Stuart questioned. "Scarlett ain't sick, is she?"**

"**Not sick. Just discouraged."**

"**Well of course she is, married to a cad like Butler and then bein' scandalized by a divorce. Makes my blood boil."**

"**At exactly midnight tonight, Scarlett will throw away life's greatest gift."**

"**What!" Brent and Stuart exchanged frightened looks. "Not Scarlett! She can't do that! She won't never come up here if she does and…well…it ain't right, Boss!"**

"**That's correct, young men. Now that you know what's at stake, go on. Good luck, **

**and good work."**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Of Bad Luck and Tragic Circumstance**

Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler stood at the lofty windows of the store, observing the people traversing across the Main Street with a wealth of tears upon her porcelain-white face. Rhett was gone; his most recent letter stated that under the terms of their divorce she would receive the value of what she had brought into their marriage. Charles's property, Frank's store, and the saloon…and nothing else. The house was to be hers to live in at no charge, but she would have to provide for the staff. The cook had had to be let go, and she had to beg Mammy to return from Tara to look after Wade and Ella since Prissy now was responsible for all of the cleaning and the majority of the cooking. She's a horrible cook, Scarlett fumed.

She had been horribly hurt by Rhett's intentions, and not only because of the money. She missed him for his company, his laughter, and the exuberant passion with which he lived life. She had learned to appreciate it, far too late. She had failed to see him for what he was, her perfect match in every way. But now, his heart was so far turned against her that there would be no more hope for recovery or reconciliation.

But it's Christmas Eve, Scarlett remembered quickly. She needed to hurry to the bank to deposit the month's profits which totaled eight thousand dollars. She had taken to holding onto the money herself, as the Panic of Wall Street had finally reached Atlanta, and none of the banks were infallible. She trusted, however, in seasonal goodwill. Surely there would be no bank scare on Christmas!

"Mrs. Butler?" Harry, one of the store clerks interrupted her concentration.

"Yes, Harry, what is it?"

"That man from the government is coming at three, ma'am. With the Panic going on, all the businesses have to present their bank statements and account books for inspection. I told him that three would be convenient, ma'am."

"That'll be fine, Harry. We've done rather well this month. I'll see to it you get a fine Christmas bonus, Harry. You've been mighty good this year."

"Thank you, ma'am. You're very kind."

"Fiddle-dee-dee. I like hard workers, that's all. Well run along, Harry. Sweep the store, would you? It wouldn't hurt to tidy things up a bit for the gentleman."

She carefully picked up her armload of parcels, placing the money on the top in a small white envelope. Scarlett grabbed her fox-fur cape and fashionable matching hat, one of the last luxury items she had bought with Rhett's money, and hurried toward the bank. I've done alright without him, she thought with a self-satisfied smirk. He was hoping to lick me, well, I've shown him that Scarlett O'Hara doesn't lay down and die when troubles come.

She was still dreaming of ways in which to tell him off when she ran directly into India Wilkes, draped from head to toe in the black crepe of mourning.

"Oh India, you're still living," Scarlett said snidely over India's outraged cry.

"I'll thank you to pay attention to where you're walking," India scoffed, reclaiming her own parcels.

Scarlett noted that India had been at the dressmakers'. Perhaps she was going to drop the mourning garb after New Year and try to find herself a husband, Scarlett thought with a stab of devilish delight.

"I suppose it wouldn't pain you too much for me to inquire as to the wellbeing of my nephew and brother-in-law?"

"It wouldn't pain me at all to tell you to leave Ashley alone! He's crazed with grief, maddened by it. The last thing he needs is you dallying with him with the hope of entrapping him into marriage. God knows you've tried hard enough. But it will be over my dead body that you ever put those notions into action."

"Are you quite finished?" Scarlett smiled sweetly. "Well in that case, I shan't feel at all guilty in extending an invitation to Ashley and Beau to dine with my children and I tonight. I would invite you, India dear, but I wouldn't want to offend your guiltless ears with my _notions_ of enjoying the holiday. Good day to you."

With an imperious nod of her head, Scarlett collected her parcels and continued towards the bank. Still huffing at the indignity the quite public verbal sparring match, India grabbed her own parcels angrily and discovered, to her arch surprise, a small white envelope, loaded with more greenbacks than she had seen in her entire life. This is Scarlett's money, she thought with a thrill. How wonderfully just the Almighty was! Oh, perhaps she should return it. No. Scarlett had done nothing save for humiliate and hurt her over the years. Payback was a dish best served cold, and no one in the entire city wanted to serve it as much as India Wilkes. Dismissing her remaining scruples, India stuffed the envelope into the pocket of her cloak and headed in the direction of the milliner.

Scarlett pranced prettily into the bank, hoping that Rhett would be in his office and would be so attracted by her hard work ethic and good looks that he would ravish her instantly. Everything would be alright then. With the happy thoughts foremost in her mind, Scarlett smiled as she approached the teller and handed him her paperwork.

"Madam, I suppose you have forgotten something."

"Pardon?"

"You forgot something, Madam."

"Well? What might that be?"

"Well, aren't you going to make a deposit, Madam?"

"Of course, how thick are you? Of course I am."

"Well, then . . it's usually customary to bring the money with you."

"Fiddle-dee-dee! Oh the nerve of you, playing tricks on me. And on Christmas too, shame on you!"

"Madam, there is no money accompanying this deposit slip."

Scarlett stared at the man with a bewildered expression upon her face. "I had it, I did…I

know I did…Well, I…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Of Missing Money and Love Unrequited**

Scarlett walked into the store with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What's wrong, ma'am?" Harry asked with concern.

"Come into the office, Harry."

Somberly he followed her, shutting the door tightly behind him.

"Well, we're done for. I've mislaid the money. The whole eight thousand, all of it. I've been back and forth from the bank and back time and time again. It's gone, I tell you, gone."

"Begging your pardon, Mrs. Butler, but how are we going to be able to be inspected if our books don't match what's in our bank account?"

"Believe me, Harry, I've been asking myself the same question."

"The examiner, Mrs. Butler," George, the stock boy called from the front.

"Distract him!" Scarlett said frantically to Harry. "Tell him that I'm delayed at the bank, and that I'll be there shortly."

"Ma'am, it's Christmas, surely he can't be kept waiting too long."

"Well try to get rid of him; ask him to come back on the twenty-sixth. I can get the money by then."

"I can try, ma'am," Harry pulled his collar nervously. "Mrs. Butler, begging your pardon, but if we don't find that money…you could go to jail."

"I'll think about that tomorrow," she said resolutely. "In the meantime…stall that examiner as long as you can."

She trudged out into the cold, a little figure of resilience in a fox fur hat...God help her, Harry thought.

Scarlett was tired of walking on foot, and called for a service rig to take her out to the mill. Ashley wasn't of any use as far as borrowing eight thousand went, but he was clever. She was escorted wordlessly into his office, a shabby, old-fashioned little dungeon which had been turned almost inside out and upside down since she had last been there. The drawers of his ancient secretary had been pulled out and were on the floor. Ashley, his hair rumpled, was feverishly dealing with his own account ledger.

"Scarlett, what a pleasant surprise." He hiccoughed loudly. So he's _still _drinking, Scarlett thought with disgust.

"Oh Ashley, Ashley, I'm in a terrible bind. I've lost eight thousand dollars. A whole month's profits, and there's an examiner sitting at the store, wanting to look at my books…Oh Ashley, it's useless. And it's Christmas!" She buried her face in her hands, waiting for him to wrap his arms around her in comfort.

He stood up slowly and stroked his chin. "Well Scarlett, I wonder why you came to me before Rhett. Surely he could lend you the money. I'm no good to you, you know that very well, my dear."

"Ashley, I can't bear to ask him. I wanted to prove that I didn't need his money! You understand about that, don't you, Ashley?""Indeed, I've been trying to stand on my own for so long I scarcely believe that I ever have. I would have been lost without you, Scarlett, many times over. And now, you again ask me for help and I have none to give you."

Scarlett wailed loudly. "But do you realize what this means? It means bankruptcy and scandal, and prison!" She stood up and grabbed Ashley's lapels and shouted at him. "That's what it means!"

She sighed as she beheld the face of a defeated, broken man. "Well, it's not going to be me! Not tonight! I'll ask Rhett if I have to…I'm sorry for burdening you with my troubles." Scarlett turned around and headed for the door, leaving Ashley sobbing at the table, his head in his arms.

She snuck into the store through the back entrance, the examiner still waiting.

"Sir," she sniffed prettily, "I'm having a bit of trouble at the bank. You see, there was a big mix-up between my husband's account and the store account…" She paused to see if her story had any effect on the tiny bespectacled man, then continued. "And the teller said that it would take a few days at least to straighten out…and I do hate to be such a burden, at Christmas. I slave away keeping this store. I was a widow when I started out, you see."

The man's eyes were softening. It was working!

"And when Mr. Kennedy died, you see, I was left a widow and two children and expected to run a store. Why it's a wonder my poor little head hasn't gone all lopsided from it all!"

The examiner sighed and took a look at the gold pocket watch attached to his waistcoat. "Mrs. Butler, you have until December the twenty-sixth at nine o'clock, sharp. I expect the full record of your accounts from your bank, and I expect them to match your ledgers. Otherwise, Mrs. Butler, we'll have to shut you down."

Vigorously Scarlett nodded in agreement, feeling like kissing the man. Her high immediately sank as she beheld the saddened faces of her two clerks.

"I suppose this means no bonus?" George looked devastated.

"Absolutely not!" Scarlett cried. "You shall have them. As soon as I get the money. Every penny and more, I swear it."

She walked out of the store in silence, head down, eyes downcast. She swallowed hard; she would go see Rhett. He was at Belle Watling's establishment; she knew that without even asking. Her humiliation would be a public one, as all of the staid genteel folk of Atlanta watched the proud Scarlett O'Hara fall to her knees in front of Belle Watling's place and plead for her estranged husband to speak to her for a moment.

He came out only seconds later, looking clean-shaven and sober.

"Where's your cloak?" he growled.

"I left it at the store," she said, looking sweetly contrite.

"Your hat?"

"The store."

Rhett's face was bland; he was no witless fool with regard to the wiles of women, especially the one before him. She wouldn't come crawling for nothing…

"What do you want, Scarlett?"

His tone did nothing to reassure her raw nerves, and with little thought, she burst out: "I need eight thousand dollars. It's lost, Rhett, lost. It's my month's earnings from the store and I lost it on the way to the bank."

"That's a princely sum, Scarlett. I'm afraid that I'll require far more collateral than a pair of stolen earbobs."

"I'll pay it back, every penny. Charge me fifty percent in interest, I don't care, only give me the money."

"Why?"

"I want to pay my clerks. I want the government examiner to go away satisfied that we do good business!"

"Well clearly you don't do good business, if you were foolish enough to lose all that cash, Scarlett. I'd expect more out of you, Miss O'Hara. For shame."

"Oh you're of no use. You're worse than Ashley; I don't even know why I asked."

Forcefully, he grabbed her shoulders with his powerful hands, shaking her.

"You asked Ashley for the money?"

"I asked him for help! For advice, Rhett! I'm so scared!"

"You white-livered little fool. I should have killed you when I had the chance for being the lying little rat you are."

"I'm not lying, I'm not! How could I, on Christmas Eve, Rhett?"

"Spare me your holiday nostalgia, Scarlett. It means very little to me that this little pickle you're in happened to fall on this particular date. But it means even less to me that this misfortune has befallen you. You should have sold that store years ago, then you would have been a lady with nothing and I would have left you something. But after all, my pet, you were a business investment, one of my poorer ones. And by God, I've cut my losses and I sure as sin won't be around to mop up your little mess."

"Fine then!" Scarlett roared. "See if I care!"

Looking decidedly more careworn than when she had left the store, Scarlett fairly sailed down the sidewalk, cursing loudly in the manner of Gerald O'Hara. If Rhett Butler heard her swearing, he did not comment about it, merely smirking and then returning to the warmth of Belle's house.

On the elegant Peachtree Street which boasted Atlanta's most fashionable homes, Scarlett paused to look at her own. A lovely Swiss chalet of her own imagination, it was impressive to all who walked by to observe it. This wasn't home, though. Tara was home, Tara with its whitewashed walls and long avenue and wide porch. She would sell the house of horror, the house of ill repute. She'd repay Harry and George and give Ashley some money just to spite Rhett and India and she'd take Wade and Ella home to Tara for good and all. Yes, that's what she'd do. She'd put it up for sale.

As she entered, she was greeted to the monotonous rhythm of Ella's piano playing. It was important that she learn how to play, but frankly, her playing was downright awful and it shattered any sense of calm she had attained.

"Ella, that noise hurts my ears," Scarlett snapped.

Wade was decorating the Christmas tree under Mammy's watchful eye. "Lahd Miz Scarlett, what took you so long?"

Scarlett sighed as she collapsed on the settee. Ella continued to play, oblivious to the fact that it might not be the best time to do so.

"Ella, haven't you learned that silly tune by now? Stop it, Ella! Stop playing!"

"Is Uncle Rhett coming, Mother?" Wade asked hopefully.

"No. No he isn't."

"Why not?" asked Ella.

"Because he isn't. Great balls of fire! You act as if he's the best thing in the world! Well, you still have me, don't you?" Her eyes flashed angrily as she took in their stunned little faces.

"Miz Scarlett!" Mammy chided. "Don' scole them chiles! Ain't right of you tah loose your troubles out on them chiles!"

"You too, Mammy?" Scarlett said. She tried to engineer a smile, and turned to Wade.

"Wade, honey, why don't you go over to Beau's house and see if he'd like to come over and trim the tree with you?"

"He can't," Wade shrugged sadly. "He's sick. He has a real bad cold, Mother. His coat's gotten so small for him and his Daddy can't afford a proper one. I offered to let him wear mine but he said no."

"Beau's sick? Was Dr. Meade there?"

Wade shook his head. "Miss India wasn't at home yet, and Beau didn't want to be a bother. I told him to sleep it off. I think they're having money troubles, Mother." He said this furtively, as if he were revealing a dreadful secret.

"Aren't we all?" Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Run away, Wade Hampton. Watch your sister, and go check on Beau later, won't you?"

"Where are you going, Mother?"

"Out."

"Will you be back for dinner?"

"We'll see."

A wave of rage rushing over her, she bounded up the stairs and found her safe. Unlocking it, she found quickly the half empty brandy bottle, which she polished off. Hands shaking, she fumbled with the papers. There it was: a fifteen thousand dollar life insurance policy. Rhett has thought of everything, she smirked…even if I get desperate enough to…Perhaps it would be better. Then Rhett would have to keep Wade and Ella. He knows that Beau has to be taken care off, too. Perhaps he can be a better parent to them than I have! Oh Melly, I've failed everybody so miserably. And now your little boy's sick and its my fault!

Scarlett stumbled down the staircase, her eyes glazed over. She took in the scene in the parlor. Ella was sobbing in Mammy's lap, and Wade was staring at the Christmas tree with an empty expression on his face. I did this to them, she thought with sadness. They'll be better off without me.

She shuffled out the door, giddily warmed by the brandy. I'll do it! I'll do it and show them all!

She trudged and trudged, barely aware that it had begun to snow. Finally, she stopped her mindless wandering and found herself near the Shantytown she had been attacked all those years before. The fall floods had made the creek swell, the current was rapid. The water would be freezing! That was easy enough, Scarlett thought. I could have slipped in, no one ever need know. It's so simple, to jump in and have it done with.

"You don't want to do that, honey."

"Nah, it'd be a shame to waste the most stunning beauty in all of Georgia!"

"Brent? Stu?" Scarlett's eyes flashed back and forward at the twins' faces. They were as handsome as ever, and looked the same as the day they had left the County to fight the war they thought would be finished in a month.

"That's right, honey. Brent and Stuart Tarleton, Angels Second Class."

"Angels?! I have gone mad then. Well what are you doing here? You're supposed to be dead."

"We are, honey, we are. But we've been sent to help you."

"Yeah, and if we do, we earn us some wings!"

"Help me? You can't help me. No one can help me."

"Lot of folks praying for you, honey…besides, what are guardian angels for if not to help out when you're in trouble?"

"Fiddle-dee-dee. So are you _both _my guardian angels?"

Brent smirked. "I guess the good Lord figured you needed two of us."

"Well I don't believe you. I think you need to go on back where you came from. I'm tired of living, and I'm going to stop. Its just unfortunate that I can't wish that I was never born…then all the people I've disappointed wouldn't know that I've disappointed them at all! Ha! Can you do that, boys? Can you make it so that I've never been born?"

"Well that's a swell idea!" Stuart winked at his brother. "Let's show her what life would look like today if she hadn't been born."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Of Tragic Possibilities**

"Well honey, You've got your wish. You've never been born." As Stuart spoke, the snow stopped falling and a strong wind sprung up from the south.

"What? What did you say?" inquired Scarlett.

"I said you've never been born. C'mon, we'll take a walk around Atlanta. C'mon, honey, take my arm."

"Mine too," Brent offered. "How's it feel, Scarlett? No worries, no obligations. No examiner…no eight thousand dollars to come up with."

"I don't understand…how is that possible?"

"Don't you understand, Scarlett? It's because you were not born."

"Then if I wasn't born, who am I?"

"You're nobody, honey. You have no identity."

"What do you mean, no identity? My name is Katie Scarlett O'Hara of Tara. Now wait a minute, here, boys. Wait a minute here. This is some sort of a funny dream I'm having here…Too much brandy! I'm going home now to see my children."

She started off towards Peachtree street, the boys on her heels.

"Home? What home, honey?"

"And what children? There ain't none."

"Now stop this foolishness, boys! Cut it out! You're . . . you're . . . you're crazy! That's what I think . . . you're crazy, and you're driving me crazy, too! I've had a horrible day but now I'm going home to spend Christmas Eve with my children. Do you understand that? And I'm going home alone!" Scarlett strode off hurriedly, Brent and Stuart slowly following her.

The character of the city had completely changed. Where before it was a quiet, orderly town, it had become in nature like a frontier village. The Main Street boasted three separate sporting houses, two cafes, two saloons, and a new pool hall. The store! Scarlett thought with horror. Frank's pride and joy, the store had become a burlesque house. "Excuse me! What happened to Mr. Kennedy's store?" Scarlett tugged on the arm of a man loitering on the street.

"That store went out of business years ago. His widow couldn't keep it up after he got executed."

"Executed?"

"Yeah, it was quite the doin's. Mr. Kennedy and his Cracker brother-in-law and the ole Doc. All of 'em got the noose after they was mixed up with the Klan. Mighty sad."

Scarlett backed away from him, hands shaking. She turned her face towards Brent and Stuart, who looked sympathetic.

"What happened?"

"Well, Frank married Suellen 'cause you wasn't there to interfere. They sold Tara, 'cause it was just a money drainer without you around to run things. Will tried, but Frank offered him a job here in Atlanta and that was the best he could do."

"Will would hate the city! He'd hate it!"

"Well, he married Miss Careen. So, he had to do something for her. They got wrapped up in the Klan though, and the damn Yankees discovered them at the Old Sullivan Plantation."

"And Rhett wasn't there to save them…" Scarlett mused aloud. "Because of me…"

"Take me to Aunt Pitty's, boys. Beau is sick. What's happened to them without me?"

They were there in a flash; Scarlett's mouth fell open at the appearance of the house. The windows were broken, the porch sagged lazily, and one section of the roof had fallen in, doors and shutters hung askew on their hinges. A look of doom upon her face, Scarlett approached the house. The interior of the house was ghostlike. No furniture, cobwebs, wallpaper hanging and swinging –– the stairs were broken and collapsed. In a voice that sounded like a cry for help, Scarlett yelled out: "Ashley! Beau! Aunt Pitty! India! Anyone home?"

Brent and Stuart were leaning against the wall, observing her with the greatest pity.

"They're not here, honey."

"What have you done with them? ASHLEY!"

"Ashley died when he was seventeen, honey."

"That's ridiculous, he…oh my God…the ice?"

"Boyd and Cade tried to jump in and save him, but they were too late, honey. He died, because you weren't there."

"I barely did anything. I was just a little girl."

"And you wouldn't let him go."

"So…Melly? What's happened to Melly?'

"She lives on Ivy Street, Scarlett."

"Oh thank heaven, then she isn't…Melly! Melly!"

Scarlett ran up the path to the front door of the house and rapped on the door. She rang the bell and tapped on the glass, when her attention was caught by a sign on the wall reading "Hamilton Boarding House." The door opened slowly and the small tired face of a woman appeared. It was Melly, but she had changed amazingly. Her face was harsh and tired. In her eyes, once kindly and understanding, there lay now only cold suspicion. She gave no sign that she knew Scarlett at all.

"Well?" Melanie snapped.

"Melly?" Scarlett whispered. "Only my friends call me that. What do you want?"

Her words cut Scarlett to the quick, stinging her like a blast of cold water.

"Melly, it's Scarlett! I thought sure you'd remember me."

Coldly, Melanie replied, "Scarlett who? If you're looking for a room, I'm afraid that there's no vacancy."

She began to close the door, but Scarlett stopped her.

"Oh, Melly, Melly, please help me. Something terrible's happened to me. I don't know what it is. Something's happened to everybody. Please let me come in. Keep me here until I get over it."

"Get over what? I don't take in strangers unless they're sent here by somebody I know." "Well, I know everybody you know. Your brother Charlie and I were married, Melly. We've got a little boy named Wade Hampton! And your husband Ashley, and your son Beau."

Melanie's face went white. "You're crazy, Miss. Charlie died in the war. He was never married. As for Ashley, he died…a long time ago. You're very cruel to trifle with me. I'll thank you to leave."

"What happened to Pa, Melly? Gerald O'Hara of Tara! And my sisters, Suellen and Careen? You know them, don't you? When'd you see them last?

Melanie sighed loudly, "Careen and Suellen O'Hara both took the veil after their husbands were killed. And Mr. O'Hara has been in the insane asylum ever since he lost his wife. And if you ask me, that's where you belong."

She slammed the door shut in Scarlett's face. Scarlett stood there a moment, stunned. Then she turned to run out to the sidewalk, her features distorted by the emotional chaos within them. Brent and Stuart were leaning on the mail box at the curb; Brent was holding his volume of "A Christmas Carol" in his hand.

"Strange, isn't it?" Stuart observed, "Each person's life touches so many other lives, and when they ain't around it leaves an awful hole, don't it?

Scarlett spoke quietly, attempting to work things out logically. "I've heard of things like this. You've got me in some kind of a spell, or something. Well, I'm going to get out of it. I'll get out of it. I know how, too. I . . . the last man I talked to before all this stuff started happening to me was Rhett."

"You know where he lives?" Brent smirked.

"Sure I know where he lives. He lives at Belle Watling's."

Scarlett and the twins approached the three story building, but not before stopping at Oakwood Cemetery.

"Bonnie," Scarlett said aloud. "Bonnie will be here!"

She wandered like a lost soul among the tombstones, the twins trotting at her heels. Again, Scarlett stopped to stare with frightened eyes at a tombstone. Upon it was engraved a name, Rhett Kinnicutt Butler.

Feverishly, Scarlett scraped away the snow covering the rest of the inscription, and read: IN MEMORY OF THAT MOST DARING OF BLOCKADE RUNNERS –– CAPTAIN RHETT BUTLER –– 1838-1864––

Stuart spoke softly, "your husband, Rhett Butler, died at Belle Watling's house after being hit by a stray shell in the Battle of Atlanta."

Scarlett jumped up. "That's a damn lie! Rhett took us halfway to Tara and then went to war! He served in the Battle of Franklin! And he saved Ashley and Dr. Meade and all the others!"

Sadly Brent spoke, "every man of quality in Atlanta died that night, Scarlett. Rhett wasn't there to save them because you weren't there to save him. You see, honey, you really had a wonderful life. Don't you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Of Answered Prayers and Angels' Wings**

Scarlett fled from the cemetery. The wind was picking up again and the snow increasing. She had to wish it all away! She had to get her life back!

She collapsed at the edge of the bridge where she had considered jumping in. Brent! Stuart! Help me, boys! Get me back. Get me back. I don't care what happens to me. Only get me back to my children. Help me, boys please! Please! I want to live again!

Scarlett sobbed loudly as she leaned on the bridge railing, praying.

"I want to live again. I want to live again. Please, God, let me live again!"

Suddenly, the wind began to die down, leaving only a soft, gentle snow.

"Mrs. Butler!" It was the kindly face of Harry, her head clerk. "Mrs. Butler, are you alright, ma'am? We've been searching for you everywhere. Your boy Wade Hampton was all over town trying to find you!"

"Wade Hampton!" Scarlett screamed with pleasure. "He's alive? Oh, praise be to God!"

"Are you sure you're alright, ma'am?"

"I'm fine! Oh Harry! Harry! Let's go back to town, right away!"

"Climb into this buggy, ma'am. I'll have you home in a jiffy."

"It's snowing too!" Scarlett laughed happily. "Look Harry! It's snowing!"

"It's been snowing, ma'am!" Harry smiled, so happy to see her cheerful countenance return. "So, ma'am, have you had any thoughts about our missing money?"

"I'll think about it tomorrow, Harry! Tomorrow! Oh blessed day! Harry, stop! I want to run home in the snow."

"If you're sure…"

"Oh yes I'm sure," she smiled broadly, her rapture boundless. "Merry Christmas, Harry! MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

She ran and ran until she reached the city limits.

"Merry Christmas, Atlanta!"

She passed by various familiar faces in the streets, and yelled loudly and with little dignity: Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!

"Merry Christmas, sporting house! Merry Christmas lumber yard! Merry Christmas you wonderful old store!"

As she passed by Ivy Street, she noted India Wilkes fixing a festive wreath upon the door.

"Merry Christmas, India Wilkes."

India clucked her tongue at Scarlett shamefully running through town…She deserved to have that money gone, oh yes she did. Yet a stab of guilt plagued India…a small voice that sounded remarkably like Melanie's urged her to do the right thing…

"Damn it." India cursed for the first time in her life and went to find the white envelope.

Scarlett slammed the door open with breathless abandon. "I'm home! Merry Christmas! Oh my home, my home! I'm home! Mammy? Prissy? Children?"

"Ella! Wade! My darlings! Come here, let me look at you. Oh I could just…Darlings!" Scarlett sobbed as she picked Ella up and kissed her hair. She hugged Wade too, and to her shock, felt tears fall down his face.

"We were so worried, Mother."

"Yes we were, Mother, we prayed and prayed."

"I'm all right now, children. Where's Mammy?""She went out looking for you with Uncle Ashley," Wade answered. "Beau's here too."

"Beau!" Scarlett said jubilantly as the shy little boy who looked so much like Melly appeared behind Wade. "How do you feel?"

"All better!" Beau declared. "Not a smidge of temperature."

"Not a smidge, eh? Oh sweet Beau, and Wade Hampton. Ella, sweet, go play me something."

"Really, Mother?"

"Really, sweet. Anything you want. I want to listen to you!"

"Yes Mother!" Ella went off delightedly and began a spirited rendition of Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

"Mah lamb! Praise God!" Mammy barreled in and grabbed Scarlett's hand. "Mah lamb's back. Blessed Jesus. You sho had ole Mammy skeered Miz Scarlett."

"I'm home, Mammy. I'm home, I'm home!"

"Come on here!" Mammy led Scarlett in front of the Christmas tree. "Now Mistah Ashley, he said you was in trouble. Stand there, Miz Scarlett, by that tree. Mistah Beau, Mistah Wade, Miz Ella, you too. Don' move, don' move. I hears 'em!"

"It's a mir'cle!" Mammy bellowed as she flung the front door open. They paused as the house filled with the noise of a crowd of people. Ashley, face flushed, covered with snow, and carrying a clothes basket filled with money, burst in. He was followed by Doctor Meade, and about twenty more townspeople.

"Come in, Mistah Ashley! Everybody! In here!" Mammy ejaculated.

Scarlett picked up little Beau and held him behind the table, protecting him from the mob. With a boyish grin, Ashley dumped a veritable basketful of money out onto the table –– which overflowed it.

"Isn't it wonderful, my dear?"

The rest of the crowd all greeted Scarlett with greetings and smiles. Each one came forward with money, Rene Picard, Hugh Elsing, Tommy Wellburn. They carried it in their pockets, in shoe boxes, in coffee pots. Money poured onto the table –– coins, dollar bills –– small money, but lots of it. Shouts of "Gangway –– gangway" could be heard from the front door as a new bunch came in and poured out its money. Even India showed up, dropping a wad of bills on top of the pile and then sliding inconspicuously into the crowd. Ashley stood next to Scarlett, watching her rendered speechless as she held Beau. She could hold it in no longer, and tears began to course down his face. Her lips framed their names as she greeted them.

Harry appeared at her side after his own contribution and winked broadly. "Mister Wilkes did it, Mrs. Butler! He did it all! He just told a few people you were in trouble and they scattered all over town collecting money. They didn't ask any questions –– just said "count on me." You never saw anything like it."

"See, Scarlett, there is still human kindness in this world," Ashley whispered.

"Oh Ashley." Scarlett took his hand. "Thank you."

"I wouldn't have a roof over my head if it wasn't for you, Scarlett. Nor my son, nor the extra years with Melly. Really, Scarlett, I think you have saved me so many times that this is only a drop in the bucket when it comes to repaying it all."

"Mother!" Wade's voice carried over the chattering crowd. "Just a minute. Quiet, please, everybody. Quiet –– quiet! Now, Mr. Lee just brought me this telegram from a bank in New Orleans. It says: Mr. Wilkes cables you need cash. Stop. My office instructed to advance you up to twenty-five thousand dollars. Stop. Merry Christmas. Rhett Butler." The crowd broke into a loud cheer as Wade dropped the telegram on top of the pile of money on the table.

Scarlett cried out, "Prissy! Mammy! How about some wine?"

As Mammy hurried to bring out a punch bowl and glasses, Ella sat down at the piano and struck a chord. She began to play "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," and the entire assembly joined in the singing; the Atlanta Old Guard had performed well on this night.

In the midst of it all, Scarlett almost missed a dark haired man enter the room.

She put a hand to her mouth and ran toward him.

"Hello, Scarlett, how are you?"

"Oh Rhett . . . Rhett. . ."

"Well Ashley, Mammy –– looks like I got here too late."

"How did you…oh Rhett!"

"Oh, I wanted to go after you right after you left me…but…I didn't. It drove me crazy all day, thinking about it. But as soon as I got Ashley's note saying that you really were in trouble, I came to house right away and you had already gone."

"Rhett, thank you for the loan. I will pay you back, I promise."

"I don't want you to pay me back. I want you to forgive me. Forgive me for being a cad and worse. Forgive me for making a joke out of your troubles. Forgive me for subjecting you to talk and scandal."

He bowed to the assembly of people who at gathered at the doorway, watching the scene between the Butler's intently.

"Not a Carpetbagger or Scalawag among them," he muttered.

"Friends, neighbors," Rhett took Scarlett's hand and spoke loudly. "I would like to take this moment to apologize to you all for any of my shortcomings, and to my stepchildren for my neglectful treatment of them. Ella, that is very, very fine playing. But most of all, I would like to apologize to my wife…with the hope that…in the spirit of the holiday which she's already reminded me of today, that she will consider allowing me to return home. I love her immensely, and love her only more so, tonight."

Scarlett giggled foolishly and nodded through tears of joy. "Of course, Rhett. Of course."

Rhett tried to appear saintly, but failed dismally, gracing her with his most devilish smile. "Now may I flaunt you in front of them?"

Scarlett shook her head. "You're too much!"

"That's why you keep coming back," Rhett smiled. "And I won't leave again…Mammy, a glass, please."

Mammy obliged, fetching him and Scarlett two full glasses.

"You look prettier every week, Mammy."

"You is bad, Mistah Rhett."

"A toast," Rhett held up his glass, "A toast . . . to my beautiful wife, Scarlett O'Hara Butler. The richest woman in town!"

Once more the crowd broke into cheering and applause. Ella returned to the piano and started playing "Auld Lang Syne," which was quickly joined in by all.

"Mother used to play this," Scarlett said to Rhett. "When I was a little girl…"

She glanced down at the pile of money on the table, her eye catching something on top of the pile, and she reached down for it. a copy of _A Christmas Carol_ with the inscription: "Dear Scarlett: Remember nobody is a failure whose got friends. Thanks for the wings, honey! Love Brent and Stuart."

Rhett glanced down at the book, wrapping Scarlett's small frame within his strong arms. "What's that, my pet?"

Scarlett smiled up at her husband. "That's a Christmas present from two very dear friends of mine."

At that moment, perhaps because of the jostling of some of the people on the other side of the tree, two of the little silver bells on the Christmas tree swung to and fro with a silvery tinkle. Scarlett closed the cover of the book, and pointed to the bells.

"Look there, Rhett. Don't they say that every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings?"

"I think that's right, darling." Rhett kissed her. "I think that's right."

"Way to go, boys!" Scarlett smiled, her head turned upward.

Surrounded by friends and family, Scarlett O'Hara Butler made a vow then and there to never again take for granted her wonderfully extraordinary life.


End file.
